Page 11 of Playing with My Heart

We rode the wheel twice, the second time in comfortable silence, our shoulders touching, our gazes lost in the horizon where sky met city. As we stepped off, the glow of the setting sun painted everything in muted colors, and I knew that this moment, this day, would be etched in my memory forever.

“Thank you for showing me around. Chicago truly is a beautiful city,” I said.

Travis beamed at me, the unfiltered joy on his face momentarily stealing my breath. “I’m glad I could help you fall in love with it. But the tour isn’t over yet. You still need to try some of the food.”

My stomach decided right then to snarl with hunger, letting out a loud and embarrassing growl. With a laugh, Travis suggested we cap off our tour with some authentic Italian cuisine. “Romero’s isn’t far from here,” he said, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Best carbonara in the city.”

As we pushed through the restaurant’s front door, the aroma of garlic and fresh basil enveloped us. The hostess, a stunning redhead, greeted Travis like an old friend as she led us through the dining area where customers chatted quietly, enjoying their meals as well as the company. Soft music played in the background, giving the restaurant a warm, cozy feel.

The hostess showed us to a table nestled in a corner, the flicker of a candle casting playful shadows across the crisp linen tablecloth. We’d just begun looking over the menu when two men emerged from the kitchen. The tall, dark, and handsome one was wearing black slacks and a deep plum colored button-down while the shorter man—who looked awfully familiar—wore an apron over his clothes. “Travis!” the shorter one called,tossing his arms around Travis’s shoulders. I stared at him, trying to figure out if we’d met somewhere before.

Travis hugged him back then shook hands with the taller man before turning toward me. “Guys, this is Parker Reyes, a friend of mine and the new physical therapist at the clinic. Parker, this is Giovanni and Caleb. They own Romero’s together, but Caleb is the one who draws everyone in with his amazing cooking,” he said.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking hands with them both, but the fact that I couldn’t place where I’d seen Caleb before nagged at me. There was something about him…perhaps the tilt of the head or maybe the shape of his smile. It was driving me nuts. “I’m sorry, but you just look so familiar. Have we met before?” I asked, curiosity knitting my brows together.

Caleb let out a chuckle that seemed to fill the room. “I get that a lot,” he admitted. “You might know of my twin brother, Carter Greene?”

My jaw dropped slightly. Of course! Carter Greene, the rock and roll superstar whose posters had adorned the walls of half the dorm rooms on campus. I could see it now and the resemblance was striking.

“Wow, that's—Wow,” I managed, earning a chuckle from both Travis and Giovanni.

“Caleb is also a cousin to my friend Morgan who’s married to my best friend, Akio. So, we get invited to a lot of the same functions,” Travis explained. He smiled as he looked back at his friends. “Parker just moved here from the Cincinnati area, and I’ve been showing him around the city. No tour of Chicago would be complete without a stop at Romero’s.”

Dimples appeared on Caleb’s cheeks as he grinned. “Well, I certainly hope you enjoy your meal after all that build up.”

Giovanni tucked his arm around Caleb’s waist. “You never disappoint, sweetheart. You two enjoy your dinner. And order anything you’d like. It’s on the house.”

He waved us off when we tried to argue then the two of them retreated to the kitchen. “They seem like great guys,” I mused.

“Yeah, they’re the best. And still totally crazy about each other even though they’ve been together for years.” I couldn’t be sure, but I almost thought I detected a hint of longing in Travis’s voice.

Our conversation flowed as freely as the wine from our glasses. We traded stories of our childhoods. I told him about my family—two loving parents, two sisters and a brother all of whom were older than me—and how their unwavering support in all aspects of my life had helped shape the man I’d become.

“I want what my parents have, you know? They’ve been married for forty years and are still madly in love with each other. That kind of devotion is hard to come by these days.”

Travis nodded thoughtfully. “I know what you mean. My parents were the same way. They were each other’s best friends.”

“Were?” I hedged carefully in case he didn’t want to talk about it.

He gave me a sad smile. “Yeah. They both died in a car accident when I was thirteen. I was an only child, so one minute I had a family and the next…”

I reached across the table, covering his hand with my own and rubbing soothing circles over it. “Oh, Travis, I’m so sorry. That must have been awful.”

He nodded. “It was, but luckily, my mom had a younger sister who was willing to take me in, so I didn’t end up in the foster system. Aunt Lisa was only nineteen when my parents died, barely an adult herself. She had no idea what she wanted to do with her own life, much less how to raise a thirteen-year-oldboy, but she tried her best. She was always more of a friend than a parental figure, but we made it work, and I love her to death.”

I moved my hand back to my lap but noticed his were shaking slightly when he lifted his water glass to his lips, and I got the feeling this wasn’t something he talked about often. I felt honored that he’d shared this piece of himself with me. “So, what made you decide to go into physical therapy?”

Travis seemed grateful for the change in subject because his smile made a reappearance. “I was like you, active in sports throughout school. I played all sports at one time or another, but basketball and baseball were my favorites. Once I graduated, however, I was ready for a change. I didn’t want to play sports in college, but instead, looked into a degree in physical therapy. I’d always admired the athletic trainers who worked with us in school, and I wanted to be like them, to help people recover from injuries and surgeries whether they happened through sports or not.”

The server came with our food then, setting down plates of delicious smelling pasta and a basket of fresh baked garlic bread. Travis waited until she walked away and then his eyes met mine. “What about you? How’d you end up in this career?”

I finished the bite of carbonara I’d taken, moaning at the creamy texture, then I swallowed and wiped my mouth with my napkin. “My true love was always baseball. I played a little football, but nothing got to me the way baseball did. I ate, slept, and breathed that sport and I dreamed of playing college ball and maybe eventually getting to play in the Majors one day. But then I got injured during my senior year. I was rounding the bases and collided with the third baseman. It was a hard hit. He got a concussion, and I ended up with a torn ACL. I started treatment right away, but by the time it healed, I’d already missed most of the season. And since I wasn’t playing?—"

“Then recruiters couldn’t see you in action,” Travis supplied knowingly.

“You got it. It ended up being a blessing in disguise though because if that injury hadn’t happened, I never would have gone into physical therapy—which I love. I picked that field because I wanted to help other athletes who have been sidelined the way I was, and it’s turned out to be the most fulfilling career I could have chosen. Helping people isn’t just a job to me, it’s a passion.”

“I know what you mean,” Travis said, his gaze holding mine. “Seeing someone take those first steps after an injury, it’s like witnessing a personal miracle. Makes all the time and effort and pain worth it.”

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